In some indeterminate world of another dimension, the shadowy,
white-clad authoritarian figures of doctors and social
scientists are deeply concerned with the problem of a young girl
who looks so different from everyone else that she is shunned as
a freak, a disfigured outcast unable to lead a normal life. She
has appealed to them for help, but all plastic surgery operations
have failed and now the doctors are grimly preparing to give her
a last chance: one more attempt at plastic surgery; if it fails,
she will remain a monstrosity for life.

In heavily tragic tones, the doctors speak of the girl's need to
be like others, to belong, to be loved, etc. We are not shown any
of the other characters' faces, but we hear the tense, ominous,
oddly lifeless voices of their dim figures, as the last operation
progresses. The operation fails. The doctors declare, with
contemptuous compassion, that they will have to find a young man
as deformed as this girl, who might be able to accept her. Then,
for the first time, we see the girl's face: lying motionless on
the pillow of a hospital bed, it is a face of perfect, radiant
beauty. The camera moves to the faces of the doctors: it is an
unspeakably horrifying row, not of human faces, but of mangled,
distorted, disfigured pigs' heads, recognizable only by their
snouts.

(From an account of an episode of The Twilight Zone,
from "What Is Romanticism?," by Ayn Rand)